archaic kinds of fun
by MaddestFilmLitMaid3n
Summary: 5x11 AU: . It was a look in those wide, blue eyes that wasn't guarded. Sometimes he could swear he saw amiability and he started to think she wasn't as immune to him as she thought. Perhaps she was tugged to him just as hard as he was to her.


**Let me preface this by saying congratulations to the Klaroline shippers!**

**We made it! Canon since 5x11! :) It took some time, but success!**

** Anyway, this is an AU that follows the plot from TVD. However, you will notice there is no Moon-Moon in it or baby plot. Also, Klaus is more season 2!**

_Delicate in every way but one (the swordplay)_

_God knows we like archaic kinds of fun (the old way)_

_Chance is the only game I play with, baby_

_We let our battles choose us_

There was something appetizing about the broken look in his victims. The way their determination fell away in shards, collecting in a pile at his feet, revealed the basic, animalistic instinct to survive. At that moment, when he held their life in his hands, sometimes quiet literally, they would forget their ethics and morals. These facades were shed quickly; so quickly he wondered what the point was of even wearing them.

It was exquisite, really. With one flash of his fangs, he was able to see into their scared little souls. Such weak things, that was one realization he valued throughout his long life. Almost everyone was the same at their core, sniveling fools. All one had to do was run a finger down their seamless shields then bend the armor through bringing threats into fruition.

Whatever happened to courage? The real thing, not these pale imitations. He would tsk at them and remembered the gladiators. Those men were true incarnations of bravery. Now, he was forced to deal with countless, superficial children.

_Please, don't. I'm sorry. _Over and over they would stutter and cry out as his hands dug into their skin and grasped warm, moist entrails. The begging filled his ears like a beautiful symphony. (If only Mozart could have captured this atmosphere with his talent.)

He would lean closer, press his cheek against their tear-stained faces, and take in a slow breath. A rush of exhilaration filled his body, entering his blood stream with a taste more delicious than blood. The sound of their rapid heartbeats traveled up his spine and matched his own.

After savoring the moment, he would devour them. Sometimes he took his time; peeling away the flesh, drinking their flowing juice like wine and reveling in the bacchanal. Other times, he was impatient and drank like a starving man.

Of course, life was not always this riveting or this simple. He was an Original after all, the Hybrid King. There were duties to attend to, kingdoms to rule and whatnot. Most recently, a curse to break.

The recipe called for a doppelganger and the latest in the assembly line proved to be well guarded. Surrounded by too-protective-for-their-own-good loved ones, she was nestled in the slumbering town of Mystic Falls. It had been some years since he had visited his home. It would be a refreshing break from his time in Florence. He took his time getting there, though, deciding to borrow the history teacher before making his grand entrance.

While the challenge of capturing the girl started off as entertaining, it quickly faded into an irritating spectacle of martyrdom for her safety. He would have had them all as floating corpses in a river of their own blood if his brother hadn't interrupted with his noble demands. Quaint as always, Elijah. One would think his elder sibling would have learned to relax after their prolonged existence. Unfortunately, the experience had the decidedly opposite effect and Klaus was stuck with a moral knight for eternity.

Time passed, although he barely noticed it. He became what he was always destined to be—a true hybrid at the low cost of a few, inconsequential lives. The ritual had gone off without a hitch and he was victorious as always. The realization of his new powers filled him with such hunger that he practically ate the entire next town over.

In the midst of the broken curse and a brief return of his father, there was something that caught his eyes like a diamond in the rut. He had been so busy with his diabolical plans (he was the epitome of evil, there were always diabolical plans) that he almost missed it, missed _her_. When he had sent his hybrid protégée to bite his high school sweetheart, it had all been in an effort to gain the upper hand on the town's leaders. It was a simple means to an end.

Once he entered the room, the complete unabashed hatred that flashed in her tired, suffering gaze took him by complete surprise. (A strange feeling really, he hadn't felt it since Katerina had run off.) She couldn't raise her head and was curled against one side of the bed. It was clear the bite was causing her pain, but she glared at him in spite of it.

__This was the point at which she was supposed to shudder and plead for him to save her. He would pretend to contemplate before gracing her with his cure-all blood. After all, dead leverage was really no leverage at all.

_**Are you going to kill me?**_ Her voice wavered momentarily, but her expression did not.

_Do you really think that low of me?_

_**Yes.**_

The cold certainty and contempt behind her words caused him to raise his eyebrows. For one who was clearly on the verge of death, she managed to throw mental daggers quite well. When he examined the wound, his reaction was sincere. The torn skin pulsed as he apologized for the situation. Such a delicate looking thing shouldn't be caught up in the ferocious crossfires of this war he was waging.

She kept her eyes trained on him warily as he settled onto her bed. The golden hue of her hair seemed dull in the dim lighting and sweat glittered her face. She was young, the fact was clear in her unbound bravery. She reminded him of a certain sovereign, beautiful and a tad frightening, from an empire long gone.

He parted his lips and gave her the choice. She could die; he would let her, if that were what she truly wanted. Everyone was tempted at some point throughout this type of existence. Himself included, he told her. There's no shame in it, but eternity is a gateway that can offer much more release and fulfillment than a shortened life. Art, cities, history. She didn't have to give up when the world was in her hands.

To this day, he is not sure why he spoke with such sincerity to her. What cause drove him to share his own difficulties with immortality to this newborn? He knows he had the tendency to sometimes ramble to victims, but this time was different. It took him a while to realize that he had seen the potential and would have hated to seen it wasted.

She listened stoically until he had finished. The set of her jaw made him doubt that anything he had said had gotten through to her. He couldn't read the flicker of expressions that passed on her face. Without removing her glare or even substituting hatred for gratefulness, she told him slowly that she wanted to live. He was more relieved at the response than he realized.

While he held her close as she drank his blood and the wounds healed, he decided he would get to know this baby vampire. Feisty and beautiful, she could offer him a nice distraction from the doppelganger.

He sent an invitation along with a gift. It was old-fashioned, but he was nothing but a gentleman. The dress complimented her form just as he had imagined, even though she wore it with the same expression of distrust. They spun around the ballroom gracefully. The entire scene was overly picturesque.

He offered to take her around the world while they lingered in his art room. Rattling off cities, he managed to make her laugh. It was a pretty sound, but ended too quickly. The jovial atmosphere left as quickly as it had come, though. It was almost in the same breath that she cut him with bold statements, threw his gift and left him in a state of annoyance.

She was so brazen. Her words echoed in his mind for the rest of the night and he sulked like a petulant child for some time. While his ego was bruised, his fury subsided and the irritation shifted to admiration. A thousand years of existence and she was one of the few to have spoken to him unabashedly. There was something enticing about that.

Pursuing her awoke a desire in him that paralleled that before a successful hunt. She was the prey, flouncing away from him with curls bouncing. He was the hunter, cautiously watching and waiting to pounce.

He spent more time in the town than was needed. Alongside some business with his revived mother, he grew closer to her. _Caroline._ She remained steadfast in her brusque ways, seemingly unaffected, which only heightened his desire. Every time she brushed him off, she drew him closer like a narcotic. It was playing with fire and he loved getting burnt.

There were times when he was completely frustrated with the lack of progress and he contemplated dropping the pretense of a hunt, but then there were moments he caught something. It was a look in those wide, blue eyes that wasn't guarded. Sometimes he could swear he saw amiability and he started to think she wasn't as immune to him as she thought. Perhaps she was tugged to him just as hard as he was to her.

_Friends then?_

She didn't speak, but gave him a genuine smile. He matched her smile with one of his own. Sometimes he wondered if she was playing the game along with him.

Regrettably, the career of a feared Original could not simply end because he found a diversion. _C'est la vie_. Business demanded him to act like the king he proclaimed he was. Particularly, a long overdue trip to Louisiana pulled him out of the consuming Virginian town.

She was at graduation when he came to say good-bye. (She clung to these human traditions like lifelines, a fascinating yet confounding part of her personality.) Contrary to their first meeting, she didn't glare. He did promise the world once more. Instead of scoffing, she smiled. When he kissed her cheek, there was no animosity or disgust.

Leaving did not signify the end of the chase. There was no doubt in his mind that he would win her over, whether it took another year or one hundred. He merely needed to be a patient man. She was at the beginning of her life and it would only be a comparatively brief span of time before she was on his doorstep, itching for the same drug that he was hooked on.

New Orleans had character. It was one of his favorite places to be. With the French Quarter blending into the hauntingly beautiful city, memories of a different world played in his head. It had decades since he had returned and the management of the area had clearly changed. Marcel, an old friend, had handled the supernatural world with the human one with ease. The finished product was ideal.

He decided he would take it. Like Alexander, he would conquer another's kingdom and build an empire. With all his hybrid capabilities, he was as unstoppable as gravity and he would utilize every drop of power.

There were problems, of course. Overthrowing another was hardly a day job. The entire process revealed a bureaucracy of werewolves, vampires, and witches. Months passed and the body count racked up. His plan was going along swimmingly, especially with the help from his siblings. Both were interested in returning to their old home, to their old titles of royalty. (Rebekah wasn't a surprise, but Elijah proved to have a selfish side after all.)

It was at the end of his sixth month in the city when a lovely piece of information traveled down the grapevine about the dying Katerina Petrova in the tiny town of Mystic Falls. A fascinating piece of information on its own. This was coupled with surprising news of _her _break-up. If there had been any doubt before, it was gone. Circumstances could not have been better to give him such a perfect opportunity to see the pretty, blond distraction.

Caroline wasn't pleased to see him. She clearly had no interest in sharing the exact details of the break-up, but her tongue slipped about her boyfriend's obsession with taking him down. He wanted to laugh at the idea. It was incredulous. Did the child really think he could simply beat him, an Original hybrid? He made a mental note to deal with that when he returned to New Orleans. For her sake, though, he maintained a blank expression.

They walked almost aimlessly throughout the woods. She marched in front of him and he followed as he always would. Her hands twitched at her side as she held in whatever remonstrations she wanted to say. For some time, this was enough. He enjoyed watching her even though every characteristic put him on edge. The distance had seemed easy, but here, with her, he was simply a predator addicted to its prey.

Finally, he asked her, quiet bluntly, for honesty. Her presence had shaken whatever resolve he had that graduation night. Patience didn't seem to be his virtue, after all. It felt impossible to subject himself to waiting when there was an opportunity for resolution here and now.

"If I tell you, will you promise to leave?"

"I promise," A spike of fear flashed in his body and he wonders if he overplayed his hand. This bold demand would incite most to respond with whatever he wanted, but she was different. She didn't give a damn who he was and wouldn't hesitate to tell him to go to hell. If she did, he was not sure how he would react. Could he simply walk away?

The furrow in her brow relaxed and the thin line her lips made parted. The change seemed like relief, but it could just as easily have been worry. All this time and he still was incapable of reading her. She took a step forward. "Good." The word was soft and quiet.

She moved with painfully slow measure. He remained as a rigid statue. Months of relentless waiting demanded he appreciate the fluidity of her actions. Those mesmerizing eyes moved briefly to his lips before closing shut. The forest had frozen in anticipation. As she came closer, he mimicked her action by closing his own eyes.

The tentative movements shifted into something more authoritative. Her lips met his and he responded. It was sweet, and tender like those in the romance movies she loved. Her hand ran up his chest to press against his face.

They pulled back and rested their foreheads against one another. She curved her lips and told him, "Mine."

Every fear that had dared to touch him dissolved with that one word. Adrenaline pushed his blood through his veins and the beat of his heart tripled. The effects of her presence and this revelation awoke the slumbering hybrid within.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he mirrored her smile. "No, _**mine**_."

When they kissed the second time, it was feral. The boundaries that had existed throughout the long months gave way to everything he had waited for. He didn't worry about breaking her as he tugged her close. Her nails dug into the fabric of his jacket before she started tugging it off.

He growled and moved them, shoving her against one of the numerous trees. Her lips, red and swollen, let out a gasp before she before pulling the offensive piece of clothing off his body. A shiver went down his spine and his eyes flashed gold in response.

He grabbed both of her legs and lifted them around his waist. She wrapped them around him immediately. The blouse that she wore so well was torn in two by his greedy hands. He pulled back from their kiss and assailed her neck. She hit her head against the bark as her eyes fluttered close. His teeth grazed her and trailed down to the base of her throat.

His fangs elongated and he took in a breath, tasting her excitement. The sound of her heartbeat played in unison with his own. He dug his mouth into her skin. Instead of the screams he was so accustomed to, she responded by tightening her hold on his curls. The fingers massaged his skull in encouragement. The sweet, thick liquid flowed from her veins and he lapped it up like a dying man.

The fire that burned in her heart was blinding. He reached out, completely unafraid of turning into ash.

There were no more words, only actions. The only cuts she gave him came from her mouth and hands. He didn't weave dreams with his words, but entwined himself with her hastily. The taste of victory was delicious and he wanted more.

After all, a gentleman was simply a patient wolf.*

***"After all, a gentleman is simply a patient wolf" from Lana Turner**


End file.
